Everything Changes
by Musiclove95
Summary: Just a little one-shot I wrote when I was trying to get over my writers block. It's about Sam from when he was first bitten to when Beck took him in. Read and review if you love me! Rated T to be safe


**Hey! So, I don't usually write for this category, but I just finished reading _Shiver_ and _Linger_ for the third time this week (yes, I might be a little obsessed) and decided to write this. It's about Sam, starting from just before he gets bitten to just after Beck takes him in. I used it as an exercise to help lift my writers block for my other stories, but I ended up really liking writing from Sam's perspective. So this is a long one-shot, but I think it's worth the read. If you love me, you'll read it and review. I didn't cry when I was rereading this per se, but some of the scenes are cute, and others are sad, and others are angsty, so this is a very emotional piece of writing. I hope you enjoy and give me feedback because I think I would like writing for this category more often and would love to hear what you have to say!**

**Thanks and I hope you enjoy it!**

Everything Changes

It was a Friday, the best day of the week. Mom and Dad were both working that day, so I had to take the bus home today. That didn't happen very often, but when it did, I always hated it. The bus was always so crowed, and I was always one of the smallest kids on the bus. I get shoved between two gigantic older kids to 'save space'.

I couldn't wait for the day to end so tomorrow would come. Tomorrow would be perfect. But for now, I was stuck in today. And today, my teacher, Mrs. West, was trying to get all of us to enjoy the 'wonders' of math. Patterning to be specific. The only upside of the topic was that we got to use the patterning blocks to help us with our homework. I was a little too busy watching the clock care about doing the homework, though. Three 'o' clock was only two minutes away.

"Sam, dear, are you having trouble with your patterning?" the teacher asked me, trying to get me to be productive.

I shook my head. "No, I understand the homework, Mrs. West. I'm already on question five." She leaned down to inspect my work and smiled approvingly.

"Good job, Sam. Do you find this math easy?" I nodded. "Good, then you'll have no problem finishing up to question ten." With that, Mrs. West walked away, leaving behind a cloud of perfume.

I put my pencil to the paper again and doodled shapes to complete the pattern. Square, diamond, triangle, triangle, rectangle. Square, diamond, triangle, tri—

The bell finally rang and I shoved my pencil back into my pencil case in a hurry. "Be sure to have your parents sign your reading logs tonight, children. Have a good weekend!" She waved us away and I carefully piled my books into my arms, trying my best not to drop anything.

I made my way through the crowds of kids to my locker and pulled out my bag and half-eaten lunch. My mom had forgotten to cut the crusts off my bread by accident, and the lunch monitor refused to or me. I shoved my books into it and slung it over my shoulders. I started speed-walking down the hallway, trying to be one of the first kids on the bus so I could get the coveted back seat.

I reached the front doors of the school and ducked though the almost-closed doors. I was so close to the bus, and home, and the weekend! I made a B-line for the bus, my legs moving as quickly as they could without me being yelled at for running on school grounds. I reached the bus doors and held on to the railing to help pull myself up. I was so close to being there, I just needed to climb the last stairs.

All of a sudden, I was wrenched from with bus, pulled backwards by my backpack. Something growled behind me and some people started screaming. I looked behind me to see two wolves standing there—one black and the other a blue-y grey colour. The bigger blue-grey one looked me straight in the eyes as my head hit the pavement. A shrill, high-pitched wail escaped my lips as I felt my head crack against the blacktop. That fear was almost immediately replaced with the two wolves ripping at me. The black one kept digging his claws into my arm, drawing blood. The bigger one just stood there watching, waiting for something. He kept the teacher's at bay, growling at them. The black wolf opened his mouth wide and I was vaguely aware of an ambulance pulling up into the school yard. The bit down on my arm, and I let out another wail, not caring who heard. The bite hurt and the wolf kept biting, tearing at the skin on my shoulder. Men wearing grey jackets and pants were pointing mean-looking guns at the wolves, which began to back away slowly. I started whimpering as someone started prodding my arm and wrapping it up in a clean white bandage that was slowly going red. That was when I passed out, whether from loss of blood or seeing the blood saturate the bandage I don't know.

* * *

><p>I woke up in the hospital with my mom pacing nervously around the room and my dad sitting in one of the hard plastic chairs. I blinked a couple of times to clear my eyes. "Mommy?" I said softly, sleepiness still colouring my voice.<p>

My mom turned around and smiled at me softly. "Hi, honey. How are you feeling?"

I shrugged my shoulders. The action was difficult to manage with all the wires."I feel sort of numb. Is—is my arm okay?"

Mom chuckled softly, and prodded Dad's shoulder. He shook his head, as if he too was just waking up. "Yes, Sam, your arm is going to be just fine. They've bandaged it all up, and about two hours ago they gave you the mandatory shots to keep you healthy. I'll go get the nurse." He kissed Mom on the cheek and walked out of the room.

Mom sat down in Dad's spot. "Are you ready to go home today?"

I nodded. Then something struck me."What day is it, Mom?" I asked.

She gave me a little smile. "Don't worry sweetie, it's still only Friday night. You still have your whole weekend."

I let out a sigh of relief. "Good, because I was scared that it was Sunday already and I would have to do to school tomorrow!"

Mom opened her mouth, as if to say something, but Dad and the nurse walked in before she could get a sound out. The nurse was a lady with brown hair tied up in a practical bun and a set of mint green scrubs on. "So, do you think you're ready to go home, Sam?" the nurse asked.

I gave her a smile and said, "Yes." She nodded back and started checking all the big machines around me.

To my parents she said, "Be sure to wake him up every two hours or so, just to make sure he doesn't have a concussion. It doesn't look like he sustained any head injuries, but you know how these things work." The nurse busied herself disconnecting me from the wires and my parents gathered up their stuff. Mom had brought all the magazines in the house, and Dad had brought his laptop and a month's worth of work papers. How long did they expect me to be out for?

The nurse finished up and helped me climb off the table-bed. My arm was a little sore and was bandaged up again. Mom handed me a new shirt and led me to the changing area so I could take off the blue hospital gown that they had thrown over my jeans. I pulled the hospital gown off and the shirt on, being careful for the bandage on my arm.

Mom took my hand and led me out of the hospital. It was night time, and the stars were out. We were the only car in the parking lot, with visiting hours being over. We got in the car and drove home in silence. Usually Mom would talk up a storm in the car, but not tonight.

"Are you mad at me?" I asked.

Dad, sitting in the driver's seat, turned his head so he could see me in his mirrors. "No, son, we're not mad. We're proud of how brave you were, but we're also still in shock. How's your arm doing?"

I let out a sigh of relief. They weren't mad at me. "Okay. The bandage is still the right colour."

Mom turned around and squeezed my leg. "That's good, honey. Just hold in there, we're almost home."

"Can you make me eggs? And French toast?" I asked. Breakfast for dinner was my favourite.

"Sure, honey. That can be your treat for being so brave and strong." Mom turned back to look at the road. We were right down the street from our little house on one of the quieter streets of Duluth. Dad parked the car, and then the three of us walked into the house. I sat down with Dad by the TV while Mom went into the kitchen to make my eggs and French toast. I sat down with my head lying on Dad's leg, my head started to pound a little.

On TV, there were pictures of me being pulled from the school bus by the wolves. I didn't want to watch it because there was so much of my blood, but something kept me staring at the wolves. At their eyes; the eyes that seemed too human and alert for regular wolves. The black wolf had eyes the colour of ice, and the big blue-grey wolf had dark brown eyes. I broke my eyes away from the TV and closed them. The pounding in my head was getting worse and I felt hot, too hot. "Dad," I moaned.

He placed his hand on my forehead. "Sam, you're a little warm. Do you want some _Tylenol_? I think you might have a bit of a fever." I nodded, and he lifted my head off of his leg as he stood up. I think I fell asleep because Dad had to prod my back a few times before giving me the medicine to drink. The sticky-sweet liquid travelled down my throat, leaving behind a yucky medicine taste that contrasted with the bubble gum flavour. I remember my dad's voice, telling me to go ahead and sleep the fever off.

I woke up to someone rubbing my good shoulder. "Sammy? Sammy, honey, it's Mom. How do you feel, Sam?" The voice was no more than a whisper.

"I feel okay, Mom. I just have to make sure I don't lie on my hurt arm. Can I go back to sleep now?" I asked groggily. I felt really warm, too warm, and so warm it felt like I was sitting on the sun.

"Okay, sweetie, you're really warm, so I'm going to open your window a little bit to help cool your room down." Mom left my side to go open my window. I felt the cool breeze enter the room and I let my eyes close.

The next time I woke up was morning. The bright sun poured in through my open window, and my clock told me it was already nine thirty. I could hear Mom humming in the kitchen, and Dad shuffling through the fliers in the paper. The room smelled like sunlight and spring. I slowly sat up and put a hand to my arm. It didn't hurt anymore. Feeling adventurous, I peeled the bandage back slowly. The bite mark had gone from a bloody mess to a faint line of scars in one night. I felt a smile break out on my face and I ran down the stairs in just my underwear, having shed my pyjamas sometime during the night.

"Mom! Look! Look at my arm!" I called, almost running into her.

She laughed at my happiness. "Sammy, you're wearing only your underwear! Go get your housecoat, and then you can show me your arm, okay, hon?" I let out a sigh and ran back up the stairs to grab my fuzzy blue house coat. I then ran back down the stairs to where Mom and Dad were sitting at the table. "Look! Look at my arm!" I insisted, pushing the sleeve of my housecoat down to reveal the bandage. I peeled it off again, showing my parents the healed skin.

"Amazing," Mom said, touching the skin gently with her soft hands.

"A true miracle," Dad said, ruffling my dark hair.

* * *

><p>The next few months were uneventful. I finished school for the summer, and the whole 'miracle' with my bite was long forgotten. In our house, whenever something strange happened, it was pushed to the back of my parent's memories. I didn't forget, though. I didn't think I would ever be able to forget. Stuff like that doesn't just happen.<p>

In those months, I also noticed a strange man watching me. He was tall, with familiar brown eyes and dark brown hair. I would see him in the strangest of places; the grocery store, at my dad's work, walking past our house. I didn't mention him to Mom or Dad, they'd just freak out over nothing. I had a weird feeling about him, though.

It was a hot July day, and Dad was barbequing. Lately, my favourite food was hotdogs. I would put ketchup on them and have Dad toast the bun for me. My parents were just happy that they had found a meat that I would eat, other than eggs, that is. I didn't have a very big stomach, so some days Dad was firing up the barbeque just to do one hotdog and one bun.

Anyway, this certain evening, Dad was doing a whole meal on the barbeque. We were having hotdogs (for me), hamburgers (for Mom and Dad), and grilled vegetables. Mom was out in the garden, and I was in my bedroom singing along to the classic rock station on the radio. They were playing some old Beatles song that Mom used to sing to me when I was a baby.

_Golden slumbers fill your eyes_

_Smiles awake you when you rise_

_Sleep pretty darling do not cry_

_And I will sing a lullaby_

I got to the middle of the last verse before I started feeling a sharp pain in my chest. I began to cough, feeling something like bile rising up in my throat. I felt my bones snap and muscles try to rearrange themselves. I bit my lip to keep from crying out. It hurt so badly, so, so, _so_ badly. I squeezed my eyes shut and bit my lip so hard that I drew blood. All my senses got stronger and I fainted. I woke up half an hour later with both my parents beside me. I was naked and lying in puke.

It happened several more times throughout the week, mostly when my parents were out of earshot. Each time I fainted, and they'd come in to find me curled up in a ball, naked, surrounded by bile and sometimes blood.

The first time I didn't faint was when my mother was with me. Dad was working late and my mom was making dinner in the kitchen. I was in the living room watching cartoons when the pain came.

I must've made a noise that she could hear from the kitchen, because my mother ran over to the living room. I was lying on top of my favourite star-covered comforter, which was tangled around my limbs. "Sammy, are you okay?" Mom called, turning to look at me. I felt tears begin forming in my eyes, and I coughed again. This time I keeled over and threw up. "Mama! Mama, I'm going to be sick!" I cried, my throat feeling tight. I coughed again, and again. I was lying on the floor when my mother kneeled beside me, watching as I writhed in pain.

"Sam, Sam! Oh my Lord, you're going grey. Your skin is going grey!" Mom's voice came out in an agonizing wail. Everything was so loud and painful. My skin felt like it was tearing over my breaking bones. _Snap. Snap. Snap_. Everything hurt so much, and I just wanted it all to go away. I tried to say her name again but nothing came out. I had tangled myself in my blankets.

The pain receded as swiftly as it had come. I could hear strange noises around me, wails and shrieks. I shook the blanket off and began to back away slowly, my tail between my legs. She was moving in closer, cornering me, trapping me . . .

The pain returned and I let out a howl, vocalizing the intense feeling of bones snapping, muscles reforming themselves, skin stretching over new shapes. The strange noises began to have meaning again; it was a human voice, calling my name, crying out. "Sam!" the female voice cried. I was Sam. She was my mother.

"Mama?" I said, my voice sounding strange and broken in my ears. I didn't know what happened or where I was. That came back to me slowly, too. I was in my living room.

"What happened?" Mom asked.

I nodded. "I—I don't know, Mama." I sobbed. I wanted to believe that we were all just imagining things. That nothing happened. But I couldn't.

"Sam, Sam, just stay here. Don't come any closer. Just stay there until whatever you have is gone." Mom said, retreating, leaving me sobbing alone in my room.

For a couple of days, nothing did happen. We pretended like everything was fine, even though I knew that something had. I _felt_ it. You can't just _imagine_ that type of immense pain. It happened.

On Wednesday, _it_ happened again. I was eating my breakfast while Mom and Dad were chatting about the season finale of one of their shows. I fell off my chair and bit my lip to keep from crying out. _Snap. Snap. Snap snap snap snapsnapsnapsnapsnap_ . . .

More pain. More snapping, reshaping, tearing, and stretching. "Sam, you have to stop!" a voice cried.

I threw up on the floor again and the pain got worse. "Mom," I tried to say, but it came out as a strangled half-wail, half-growl. The snapping came again, and I felt my bones rearranging. It was a pleasant feeling. The cries echoing in the room became unfamiliar and the two unidentifiable people were pointing and staring at my face. I let out a low warning growl and felt my ears flatten against my head. I tried to walk backwards to put more space between me and the unknowns, but my claws skidded on the linoleum floor and I fell on my stomach. The shorter person walked closer to me and used her foot to prod my front paws. She screamed something and the taller person, the man, walked over to her and encircled her in his arms. They smelled of fear and anxiousness. The taller one picked me up, seemingly fearless, and carried me up a mountain of plush to a room. He shut the door and a panicked feeling overwhelmed my senses. I began clawing furiously at the door, trying to get out of this enclosed space. The walls were closing in on me.

I began pacing around the area, jumping up onto the cloth-covered raised surface. I tore into the cloth with the claws, digging down and trying to find the true ground. I gave up trying and lunged at one of the walls, pulling down a wooden structure filled with an indescribable object. I couldn't wrap my head around what it was called. _Paper_. That was it. Shreds of paper flew all around the room, creating confetti of cloth strips, paper shreds, and wood splinters.

I went back to the door. It was the only way out. Somewhere between me frantically scratching at the door, my claws became fingers again. My howls turned into hoarse screams. The clock that had been knocked onto the floor read six thirty. That was when there was a knock at the door.

"Sam? Sam, are you . . . human?" a tentative voice asked.

"Yes," I whispered hoarsely. The door opened and I saw my mother looking down on my with a look of disgust, which turned to horror when she saw my room.

"Sam, what did you do to your room?" she asked strictly.

I cringed at her tone. "I'm sorry; I panicked, when I was . . ."

"A wolf. Yes, I know you probably did. You can clean this up later, but for now, dinner is ready. We're having pasta." Mom said, not looking at me. "Put some clothes on and wash up, your hands are a bloody mess."

I looked at my hands, the nails broken and bloody. I watched Mom leave and I looked through my messy drawers until I found a clean shirt and pair of jeans and underwear. I pulled the clothing on and went to the bathroom to wash my hands. While I was at the sink, a sharp pain hit my stomach and I was terrified that I was about to change again. I curled into a ball until the pain thankfully subsided.

I made my way down the stairs, afraid of seeing my parent's faces. I walked down the stairs sullenly, not looking at anything but my feet as I took my place at the dining room table. Mom and Dad had switched places, with Dad sitting next to me, and Mom sitting at the farthest point at the table away from me. They were talking to each other and not looking at me, except to say, "Eat everything on your plate." I had never felt as alone in the house as I had at that moment in time.

Weeks passed and we carried on almost normally. I didn't have any incidents in public, but they were getting to be a daily thing at home. We were having dinner as a family and my mom set a plate in front of me. I looked at it helplessly, noticing that there were peas on my plate. My mother knew that I didn't eat peas.

As I pushed my food around on my plate, my mother looked at me and sighed. I didn't think she cared enough anymore to tell me to eat all the food on my plate. "I don't think I can love him anymore. That's not Sam. That's a thing that looks like him, sometimes."

Dad, who had been the most humane to me, said, "I know." Like he felt the same way about me. I ate my peas that night, swallowing them like they were a mouthful of poison.

The next morning, my parents woke me up early and told me to get dressed. I complied, trying to convince them that I was still Sam. _The_ Sam, their only child, their son. They watched as I pulled clothes on, my hands shaking. I pulled on my favourite t-shirt with the white stripe and a pair of blue jeans. Was I in trouble? Did I do anything wrong? Were they about to sell me to some zoo or museum? Random thoughts, all equally frightening, bounced around my head. My parents grabbed me by my thin arms and walked me to the bathroom.

_They want me to pee?_ I thought. Maybe this was all a big misunderstanding and we were really going on a harmless vacation or something. Then they pulled me over to the tub. At first, I was confused because I had had a bath last night and I was pretty sure that I was still clean, and they had told me to get dressed.

"Sam, get in the tub," my father said, in a voice I had never heard him use before.

I shook my head, trying to get them to let go of my arms. "No—no, I don't want a bath. I just had one last night. Why are you trying to give me a bath?"

My parents both had looks of relief on their faces, which was strange. Why would they be relieved? I felt my father pick me up by my armpits and I struggled in his grip. "No, no, no, no—Dad, please, no."

"Be quiet and sit in the tub like a good boy, Sammy. It's for the best," my mother said, placing her hand on my shoulder, the one that had been bitten. My father placed me in the tub in a gentle way that contrasted with his earlier tone. I watched as the water soaked by blue jeans, turning them a dark colour, and then as it went up my t-shirt. I hoped, prayed, that it was all a harmless game and any minute now my parents would say, "Surprise Sam! We're taking a family vacation to a water park!"

My mother kept looking at her feet, looking anywhere but at my face. I willed her to look at my face, to see that I didn't think this whole joke was funny, that I actually thought it was pretty scary. She wouldn't look at my face.

"Annette," Dad said, and Mom looked over. He was holding something out to her, something sharp and silver. The picked one up carefully, as if it was as fragile as a moth's wing.

My mother's gaze ventured up to mine, and her expression hardened. She was looking at my eyes, my wolf's eyes. The one thing about me that was unchangeable, that said I was made for the life of a wolf. I saw her let go, steeling herself for what she was about to do. I started struggling, thrashing this way and that. Fear made me want to be anywhere but in that tub.

They held me down. Each took one of my arms and held it in their firm grip.

"Five," they counted in unison.

"Four." I didn't know what was happening.

"Three." My mother had tears rolling down her face, and they fell in the water like raindrops.

"Two." My father lifted the object in his hand so I could see it better. It was a razor blade, like the ones we had in the garage for one of Dad's tools.

"One," they both said, lowering their razors to my arms.

Pain lanced through my arms as they pierced the skin. The water was turning red in little wispy strands.

"I'm Sam. I'm your son, Sam. Mama, it's me, Sam," I said, holding my face above the red water.

_Cut. Cut. Cut, cut, cut._ Tears rolled down my face and my breath came out in little gasps. I struggled harder as they cut again; trying to let what was inside me out. They didn't speak, they just cut, cut, _cut, cut_.

I didn't think I'd be able to stay like this much longer. They kept cutting and cutting until we heard a crash in the kitchen. They both dropped their razors into the tub with me; they fell in with a little _plop_ and a _snick_ as they hit the ceramic of the tub.

I could hear Dad yelling, "Get the hell out of my house!" at the intruder. I tried to stand, to get out of that bathtub, but I hurt so much that I couldn't move.

Footsteps echoed up the stairs. They were getting closer and closer still. The approaching figure didn't smell like either of my parents. He smelled like . . .

"Sam? You okay, buddy?" the unfamiliar figure said. I watched in silence as a strange man walked in the bathroom.

"I'm Sam," I said weakly. And it was true, right now I _was_ Sam.

The man crouched beside me and looked at me, right in the eyes. It had been weeks since my parents had looked at me that way. They were too disgusted by my eyes.

"Sam, I'm Beck. I've called the police, and they'll be here any minute now. You're going to be fine, and your parents are going to jail for what they did to you," the man said. He had eyes, brown eyes, the same brown as the wolf that attacked me.

* * *

><p>I was bandaged up by the ambulance people. They all looked at me with sad eyes and gave me treats, telling me how brave I was, and how they wonder what could possess parents to do that to their own kid. I didn't tell them about the wolf inside me. Then all the sympathy and care would go away and I'd be locked up in a zoo for good.<p>

Beck stayed with me the whole time. He said that he was a family friend who heard about what my parents were going to do to me and he wanted to stop them but got there too late. His presence was reassuring, like a warm cup of hot chocolate on a cold day.

When the police were about to leave with my parents, they asked him to take me back to his house for the night. Beck agreed and he drove me all the way to his house in Mercy Falls in silence. I was the one to break it.

"Who are you?" I asked, curious as to why this complete stranger would take me in like this. He was the man I had noticed following me, and I didn't like the fact that I knew nothing about him.

"My name is Geoffrey Beck, but you can call me Beck," he said. He seemed friendly enough.

"I mean, why have you been following me?" I wanted more answers.

"Because I'm like you, Sam, and I want to help you," Beck stated simply.

That piqued my curiosity and suspicion. "Like me how? Did your parents do . . . _that_ to you too?" I asked.

Beck looked at me in his rear-view mirror. "You know what I'm referring to, Sam. I know it's hard for you to accept, but I'm going to be here for you to help you along. I promise that I will _always_ be here for you."

That was a big promise, one that I was sure he wouldn't be able to keep.

* * *

><p>My parent's trial came and went and they were found guilty. Beck filled out adoption papers and became my legal guardian. I still didn't believe him about the whole wolf thing. I was so sure that I was alone.<p>

The pain came during dinner one night. Beck lived with several other people, including his wife, Jen, and Ulrik, Paul, and Salem. There were others, apparently, who would join us eventually. We were all eating burgers that Beck had made when I doubled over and started throwing up all over the floor. None of them said anything, they just gave me space as I convulsed on the floor. The pain wasn't as horrible as it used to be, but it still hurt and was terrifying. Soon, I was watching them all through my wolf eyes, backing away until I hit bricks. The biggest one opened up a door to let me out and I ran as far as I could, until the pain returned and I became human again. That was when I knew that they were like me. Anyone else would be freaking out.

Beck was the one who found me lying naked on a patch of grass and sobbing as my scarred wrists throbbed. I couldn't help thinking that if I hadn't been bitten, I would still be living with my parents. Looking back after staying with Beck for several weeks, I couldn't imagine living that life anymore. This was my new family. Everything changes in due time, Beck had told me one day. My time was just early than everyone else's.

**Okay, so I hope you enjoyed this. I had fun writing it and it was a good exercise. Sam is a very dynamic character and I can only hope that I at least demonstrated that a bit through this fic. Please review and feel free to read my other stories!**

**xoxo**

**FireandIce95**


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